


The Sire

by fishtale



Series: The Heir to the Throne [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alpha Clarke, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, F/F, G!P Clarke, Omega Lexa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-16 18:26:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8112733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishtale/pseuds/fishtale
Summary: Second part.





	1. The First

…

…

 

Sat in an underwhelming English tea room, overpriced because it was downtown (and actually—directly across the street from the Italian place where she’d met Clarke Griffin), Lexa fidgeted; blowing steam from the top of a delicate, decorated porcelain cup and trying not to think about either the Italian place _or_ Clarke Griffin.

She swallowed, she hoped, discretely.

Anya had picked the place. Lexa generally stayed out of the area but hadn’t wanted to protest when her sister suggested it. She just hummed an affirmative and let herself be driven here—memories flashing, unbidden and unignorable.

_Downtown/_

_Blonde hair/_

_Azure eyes lit up with a soft smile as the girl listened/_

_Those kisses/_

She cut them off with practiced mental swordsmanship and redirected her attention back to her younger sister; sat with a wry grin across her, recounting the morning she’d just spent with their mother.

“So anyway,” Anya made a dismissive gesture with her hand as she ended her story, “Point is—the woman’s still batshit. Driving Ma slowly crazy too. Now _you_ go. How’s Aden?”

Lexa smiled as she thought of her son, “He’s good. In soccer practice for the next two hours. He’s _obsessed._ It’s all about that right now. Since he made captain.”

“Mommy’s little badass—” Anya grinned.

“Chip off the old block,” Lexa nodded, smirking; sipping her tea and cocking her brow a little. An unapologetic sense of pride swelled warmly in her chest.

There was a soft silence between them where they shared the same smile, before Anya finally broke it, “So what was it you wanted to ask me anyway?”

Lexa’s cheeks flushed as she shrugged, “I-I need you to take Aden for me soon. For the um…few days that… _it_ lasts. ”

Anya nodded, a sheepish grin splitting her face as she nodded towards Lexa’s cup; her nose wrinkling, “S’that why you ordered that stinking crap? Not your usual oolong.”

With an upset frown, Lexa hummed in the affirmative, “It should be coming towards the end of next month if I’m not late.”

“Well no worries, sis, I got you.”

With the matter finally settled, Lexa let herself collapse onto the table; softly groaning, “You’re so freaking lucky you were born an alpha, Ahn. You have no idea how awful heats are.”

“No yeah—‘cause ruts are the best.”

Green eyes rolled; not sympathetic in the least and Anya snorted back—amused, but not particularly excited to dredge up millennia-old disputes over who had it easiest. Either way—she was almost totally positive that it was _betas_ who had it easiest.

“Just find yourself a _mate_ already, Lex. Even if you stay unclaimed how you want…there’s nothing wrong with a _buddy_.”

Lexa blew a stray braid off where it’d fallen on her nose in the same breath she used to blow off her sister’s sentiment, “ _No_.”

“You’re impossible.”

She nodded, thoughtfully, “I also need your advice.”

“I just _gave_ you some—get _laid._ Go get laid.”

Fully ignoring Anya’s wisecracking, eyes solemn, Lexa sighed before uttering, “I really want another kid.”

Anya’s dark eyes gaped, leading way to a long pause in conversation before she carefully muttered an “ _Oh…_ ”

Lexa bit her lip, guessing her sister wouldn’t go any further until she elaborated, “I was thinking about calling Clarke, but I don’t know. She wasn’t exactly… _easy-going_ the last time. You know I wanted it to be the same sire for all my children, I’m just not really sure she’d go for it. And every time I think of calling her—I admit—I—I’m pretty cowardly all of a sudden. It’s ridiculous. If she says no she says no but…the thought goes deeper than that for me. It’s like—she _can’t_ say no. The idea feels awful.”

“Hmm.”

Lexa cocked a brow, “You have nothing to say about it?”

Anya shrugged, the smirk returning to her face, “To be honest with you, Lex, I’m not seeing where you need advice on this one. If you called her—she’d definitely pick up that phone call. From what you told me about her. I don’t believe she’d even think twice about it. So I’m guessing what you were really asking for was—just for me to tell you that truth. So now you’ve heard it from someone else. I’m backing what you already know. She’s _going_ to answer. That probably doesn’t—make it much easier to call though.”

Lexa nodded, “It doesn’t.”

Again, a silence. Less comfortable this time. Anya ached for her—ached at the way her green eyes flickered left even as she sat back ramrod straight; trying to seem unaffected.

“Lex…I—I know things didn’t work out, you know, for your dad and that that’s always made you feel—”

“Ahn—it’s—”

It was why they were half-sisters.

Their mother and sire, Tabitha Forrester, had first met _Titus_ , Lexa’s father; a straight-laced undergrad she shared a civics class with. Their story was brief. The omega boy walked in back of her after class; tugging her sleeve to get her attention, and bowed his head. Confessing he loved her.

They dated for a long time before Tabitha claimed him—and made Lexa.

Three years after that, in a San Francisco coffeehouse, she met Lana—a charming twenty-something year old omega working behind the register. And in that instance it was _Tabitha_ who felt she needed to bow her head.

Months later the mark Titus had placed on her neck when they mated started to heal.

Three-year-old Lexa watched them yell at each other in those last days before the separation—aching for her parents’ attention; for them to look at each other the way they did when they were happy.

But that had been so long ago.

Lexa watched her mother leaving on a hot September morning. The woman hugged her for minutes; nuzzling into her hair and taking long breaths.

“I wish I could take you. I _tried_ Lexa—I swear; I didn’t want you to live with him. I wanted you to live with _us_. He’s a fu—no one can say he’s not a good lawyer right?”

Her mother pulled back and Lexa stayed fixated on the way her jaw clenched; tendons jumping behind the skin. Her eyes ached from crying. She felt like she’d just thrown a tantrum even though she’d managed to stay calm the whole time she watched her mother packing.

“Not coming back?”

“Of _course_ I’m coming back. I’m coming back to see you. I—I want you to meet Lana. She’s going to be your step-mom. And—and—please don’t tell him but—she’s pregnant. You’re gonna have a little brother or sister.”

Despite the way that warmed her chest just like her mother’s kiss warmed her forehead and melted her headache away—when she walked out the door it didn’t feel any less like her mother leaving them forever.

And though Tabitha was family, and Anya was family, and Lana was family—Lexa would grow up being _Titus Woods’_ daughter before anything else.

The door clicked behind her mother and Lexa looked backward—to her father emerging finally from the kitchen with long tears down his cheeks. She ran up to him without a second thought.

Because even though she got to keep a fragmented version of each of them _he_ only had _her_ now.

And she vowed to be perfect. If he couldn’t have the perfect mate, he’d at least have the perfect daughter.

Lexa’s gaze focused again; meeting Anya’s eyes in the present. Every time she saw her little sister she knew things had happened as they were supposed to.

“I just don’t want to see you live your life based off of _one_ failed love story. Or any of the shit he spouts.”

Lexa shook her head softly, eyes downcast.

“You don’t get over seeing your dad just—break down like that. Crumbling into himself and falling apart. That image sort of tends to stay with you.”

Anya shrugged, “But you both have to. What happened _happened_. It doesn’t mean you live your whole life bitterly holding onto it. I hate how you seem so hellbent on living out the same story he did. You have to _try_ , Lex. You have to open yourself up at some point.”

“I did,” Lexa spoke, low and firm, “I’ve trusted _one_ , remember? And she wrecked me.”

“ _Almost_ wrecked you.”

Lexa’s only girlfriend had been a beta girl named Costia Sails. She always found a way to break Lexa’s walls down. From the start of high-school they dated up to two years after the end of college. Costia was a musician. It was around that time that her band had taken off—on tour opening for a big name, then a hit single, then hordes of screaming fans. Some of which Costia had taken as lovers. Lexa found out through hazy photos posted on blogs that corroborated all the gossip floating around—she was being cheated on, all over the country.

They never officially ended things. Lexa simply blocked her on every social platform.

She stopped going to the old bars.

She burned whatever bridge she had to.

To disappear from Costia’s life without a trace. To be a ghost.

Anya put a hand over hers and nudged her attention back, “You’re still _here_. You can move on—life hasn’t stopped, you know?”

“Of course it hasn’t stopped,” she answered, barely affecting happy in a convincing way, “I have Aden, and my work, and the family, and—I don’t _need_ that. I don’t see the need for a mate. All that chemical attachment and false commitment doesn’t have any appeal to me. _Okay_?”

Her sister shot her a look that said _no_ , but didn’t actually speak. She sipped her own tea at length, then said, “All right—if you won’t take a mate then at least let me get you _something_ that might help you.”

Lexa rolled her eyes.

“I’m afraid to ask.”

…

 

It was all—blazing pink neon and tacky purple carpet.

“A _sex shop_ Ahn?”

“Yeah,” Anya told her, brow cocked, “Where _else_?”

Lexa put both hands over her face, shaking her head. Anya tsk-ed, grabbed her wrist, and led her along—making her look at things as Lexa, red-faced, giggled. It was all a terrible phallic blur.

She took in the many different items on the wall (being modeled lewdly on the boxes); eyes skeptical.

“This is so _weird_.”

“What’s weirder is that you’re thirty-five and this is your first time here. Did Costia really never strap a harness on and have a go?”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Ignoring the last bit, Lexa started chuckling at a box that caught her eye, hand over her gaping mouth. She grabbed the box; shaking it in Anya’s face, “Okay _this_ is Clarke.”

Anya’s brow furrowed, “What?— _No.”_

“I swear to you,” Lexa regarded the large box in her hands; partly clear so you could see the toy inside it, “This was her. _This_ size—and, I mean certain details are different obviously. She um—has this little mole on hers—”

“Oh _gross_ —you don’t have to—”

“But the _size_ , the dimensions,” Lexa continued, “That was her.”

Anya took the box from Lexa’s hand, “Settles it—we’re getting it for you.”

“No!”

Anya was already walking to the register, “Maybe it’ll help build up your courage for that phone call. Or not—I doubt Clarke vibrates.”

“Ahn! Oh my _god._ You’re such an ass!”

“I’m shelling out,” Anya’s eyes flickered briefly over the box, “Ninety-nine ninety-nine plus tax so you could _finally_ loosen up for the first time in the better part of a decade and I’m an _ass_? Wow.”

…

They laughed on their way out—getting smirking looks from the staff. Lexa was still red as Anya drove them out of the city.

She almost didn’t feel her phone vibrating in her sweater’s pocket, but finally felt it against her hip; buzzing.

She squinted at the number, recognizing it as Aden’s school.

With a frown, she picked it up.

…

_Two hours before._

_A phone call._

…

It was from her mother’s work—which Clarke thought was strange. Her mother never called her from there.

She thought back; trying to think of anything she might’ve done to merit a lecture so pressing her mom would interrupt her work.

_Nope._

Nothing of that magnitude.

She answered cautiously.

“Uh—hello?”

“Clarke.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, affecting her mother’s clipped tone, “Mother.”

“This is serious.”

Clarke sighed, _oh here we go_ , tone utterly disinterested, “What am I being accused of.”

“Do you know an Aden Woods?”

Clarke’s brow furrowed deeply, “No—who—”

The name echoed through her thoughts past her mother’s silence.

_Woods._

_Lexa Woods._

_Her Lexa Woods._

“Who’s that, mom?”

A heavy beat, then;

“Get over here, Clarke.”

…

Her mother’s mouth had been pulled in a very firm line since she’d come through the door.

Clarke had been sitting across her for near a full five minutes, quietly; trying to contain the acerbic barrage of words crawling up her throat behind her teeth.

She finally snapped, “Start talking.”

Abby regarded her with grave blue eyes, speaking lowly, “Jesus, Clarke—I knew you were irresponsible but I would’ve _never_ thought you were capable of something like—”

“ _What_?” Clarke’s eyes gaped sarcastically, “Can I know the allegations _before_ the sentencing please?”

“Do you know who Aden Woods is?”

“Oh my _god_ —right in circles! Who _is_ he!? I don’t know!”

Clarke slammed her hand on the table.

“It’s hard for me to believe, Clarke,” Abby hissed, “Because how does my daughter—whom I believed I taught _well_ —have a kid whose—goddamn _name_ she doesn’t recognize—”

Her heartbeat stopped. Seconds ago she could feel it beating in her _ears_ and now there was nothing but silence inside her.

_What does he—look like?_

“How do you—” her voice was rough, and faint, “How do you know him?”

Abby sighed, “ _That’s_ the first question you ask?”

“Don’t do this to me, mom,” she shook her head; tears springing free from where they’d been perched at the sides of her eyes, “Not right now. This is—tell me from the start— _everything_ ; I need to know _everything_. Did she reach out to you? What did she say to you? Did she ask you where to find me? Is she…is she here? Is he…with her?”

“Oh my _god_ —” Abby’s head collapsed in her own palms, “What poor omega did you run out on, Clarke? How could you not tell me I had a grandson? How could you _do_ this? I’m serious. How _could_ you?”

Clarke shook her head, brows furrowed, “Mom, it’s not what you think. Just—please tell me what happened? _Please._ Tell me, and I’ll explain everything. I swear. But you have to tell me.”

Abby sat back in her leather office chair. It squeaked slightly beneath her weight. She let out a long breath, eyes fixed on her daughter, “This boy came in—the ambulance rushed him in from his school. He’d fainted playing soccer. We checked his vitals; it was strange. There wasn’t a reason for the collapse. No signs of dehydration or heat exhaustion. There didn’t _seem_ to be a reason. But then his bloodwork came back and—his white blood cell count was low. We ran some tests and—” her mother’s rough voice tripped on itself, “It’s—it’s leukemia.”

Abby’s voice died on the last word; trying to soften it in the slightest.

But that was impossible.

Clarke felt the blood drain from her body, leaving it cold.

“God, _no.”_

She wanted to rush to him. She’d never even met him. She’d never even gotten to—

“ _Stop_.”  

Her mother was up, crouching to pull her into her warm arms and holding her tightly. She kissed the fever beneath Clarke’s temple, “It’s going to be okay, princess. It’s—we caught it so early, Clarke. And you’re a match. That’s how—that’s how I found out. We asked him if he had any siblings and—no. And his mother— _Alexandria_ —her name—showed up in the Guardian database but she wasn’t a match. We ran his type against the whole database then to see if by some miracle there was already a viable donor for him and—you were the only name to pop up. Then, next thing I know some lab tech is pulling me aside and telling me in no uncertain terms that you’re biologically that boy’s sire _in fact._ I thought I was being pranked until I _literally_ had the results in my hands.”

Clarke nodded; oxygen crawling very sparsely up her tight chest. The Guardian database was a revolutionary program her mother had started in her hospital, where people from their immediate community volunteered to join as donors for cases of early childhood cancer. Many young lives had been saved on its account.

Her mother’s story swirled headily through her thoughts. She didn’t know where to focus first, “Can I—Can I see him?”

“First you explain yourself,” Abby got up from where she’d been kneeled holding her; standing and leaning on her desk to glare hard at her daughter, “What the _fuck_ , Clarke?”

She cleared her throat, looking away, “A long, long time ago—”

“Don’t be funny—”

“When you _abandoned_ me, because you didn’t want me to do art school. I needed money. I was looking for some odd job that might pay tuition—fat chance of something like that popping up on some _app,_ right? But then I saw this ad. This woman—just a few years older than I was—she wanted a baby. She—she was looking for an alpha that would be willing to—try and give that to her—the, the old-fashioned way because doctor’s offices had failed her. And I—whatever, I didn’t think—”

“Clarke.”

“I know, mom, I _know_. The point is I never had any right to this kid. I just helped her make him. She—was clear from the start that she wanted—complete and total anonymity. He was never meant to know me.”

Her mother’s eyes were popping out (probably bursting behind some giant onslaught of new lectures), and she rolled her own, “Can I—see my son for the first time? Would that be all right with you now? Then—tell me how dumb I am later. We can do dinner, it’ll be _great_.”

Abby sighed deeply, but nodded.

…

 

Clarke ran a palm along the numbers on his door, “Is Lexa in there?”

“No.”

Clarke’s brow furrowed, as she turned to stare at her mother, “No?”

“I—” Abby’s eyes flickered left, “I told the staff to hold off while I—straightened this out with you. It’s—”

“ _Mom_.”

“I gave them the all-clear just as we were leaving my office. They contacted his school to let them know the ambulance took him here. And what a fucking lucky coincidence _that_ was because I might’ve never—” at the look on Clarke’s face, Abby held her tongue, drifting back to the topic, “His mother should be getting a call from his school _now_ actually so I’m sure she’ll be here soon.”

Clarke nodded solemnly, before curling her hand around the knob and opening the door.

…

 

He turned, ocean-blue eyes curious, at the sound of the door swinging open.

Their eyes met and Clarke’s life changed forever.

From not knowing he existed to he _is_ her existence.

He frowned at the sight of her street clothes; regarding her with a searching look which so oddly resembled her that she felt chills crawl up her arms.

 _That’s my son_.

Her own expression on his new face. Strange and yet comforting.

She saw him turn to Abby, his head tilting slightly (reminding her very suddenly of Lexa), “Dr. Griffin ‘m I okay? Why m’I at th’ hosp’tal?”

She and Abby turned to each other, and she pleaded with her eyes for help; for Abby to say the right words; for her son to feel safe and sound even if it wasn’t true yet. Abby steadied her racing heart with a soft stare and assuring nod at her.

She kneeled by her grandson’s bed; passing a gentle hand through his bangs the way she’d done for Clarke at the same age, “You’re okay, buddy.”

He nodded, smiling; his head leaning into the movement of Abby’s palm, “S’my mommy coming?”

Abby nodded, “She is. She’s going to be here soon. I’m gonna have them bring you a big sundae and…the minute you finish it, your mommy’s going to come through the door and I bet she’s going to want to hug you. Because you’re so _cute_.”

His smile was huge, “Okay!”

…

 

Clarke couldn’t stop staring at him; responding to his every voiced thought with whatever she thought might make him happiest.

She sat faithfully at his bedside as she watched him swirl ice cream onto a spoon for maybe a half-second before it was gulped sloppily into his mouth. The spoon clattered onto the empty bowl as he finished with a contented moan, “You shoulda had some when I offered.”

She snorted, smiling, “Should I send for another?”

“Hmmm—”

His eyes were squinting in honest thought and Clarke was covering her grin behind her hand when the door flew open with a whine. Clarke rose from her seat; turning dutifully to face what was coming—her eyes raking over Lexa Woods for the first time in seven years.

…


	2. The Second

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one picks up directly after the first part.

Nothing about the woman had changed. Her regal beauty nor the way in which she carried herself (something Clarke had never been able to forget). Her green eyes—nor the way they roved over her now as they had that first time; with confusion and instant denial, “Clarke? Wh—what’re you doing here?”

…

“Mommy!”

Aden’s body bounced lightly on his bed, unable to contain his excitement, “They gave me ice cream, mommy. An’ then I met Cla-arke. An’ she’s my friend, an’ she’s gon’ help me get better, an’ she’s gon’ come to my game this week-end, an’ if you say yes I can ask—I can ask if she can come an’ eat dinner at our house an’ see my toys. So can she?”

Lexa’s mouth was a perfect ‘o’ as she gaped; glancing from Aden to Clarke with wide and incredulous eyes, “ _What_?”

The door swung open once more before Clarke could find her voice in the haze of her nervousness.

Abby regarded Lexa with a dubious frown as she entered the room, clearly thrown off, “Ms. Woods…they…let you in here before I could…brief you on the situation?”

Lexa smirked, “Oh, they tried to stop me.”

“Okay,” Abby regained her composure quickly, clearing her throat a bit before she spoke, “I think it might be in your best interest if we—”

“ _I_ think it might be in both of your best interests if you don’t mince words with me. Now, the two of you—out into the hall. I can’t wait to hear what I’m sure are some _spectacular_ explanations for these circumstances.”

Clarke stalked forward without a second thought, and pulled her affronted mother by her white coat, “We’ll wait right outside for you, Lexa. Take your time—as much as you need to.”

They exited with a swish and soft click of the door.

“Mommy?”

Aden looked up at her through hesitant eyes, and instantly she softened, “You’re okay, baby. Only they’re in trouble.”

He smirked at her then, and his eyes lit up like Clarke’s. She swallowed the thought; pushed it down.

…

Lexa turned to Clarke first, “What’re you doing here?”

“Shouldn’t you be asking what _he’s_ doing here?” Abby interjected, already hating the omega she knew had ensnared her daughter’s heart somehow. The woman’s complexity and fire were what Clarke went for—all over.

“I was assuming kidnapping,” Lexa stared drolly down at Abby, “Perhaps with the aid of a quack-doctor accomplice.”

“Lexa—mom— _everybody_ ,” Clarke hissed at them, “This is too serious to waste time bickering outside a door,” she looked up to face Lexa’s bold green eyes, “I—I’d never harm a _hair_ on him. He—my mom—Dr. Griffin,” Clarke nodded to her mother, flanked at her right side, “Called me this afternoon, a little over an hour ago. Because Aden had been brought in for fainting during his practice. They ran some tests and—”

As she spoke she watched the kaleidoscope swirling across Lexa’s eyes fold over to a hazy pastel emerald; misty, as tears welled up.

“And _what_ , Clarke?”

Her voice was barely a hush.

“He’s been diagnosed with leukemia—”

A soft sob broke out of the perfect column of Lexa’s throat. Clarke almost reached for her when she saw those narrow shoulders shake, “But it’s _early_. And he’s—he’s a fighter, Lexa, I can tell. And…and the reason mom called me was that I popped up on the Guardian database as a match for a bone marrow transplant. And the lab tech, looking into it, saw that I was also…you know, his sire. So, uh, she—she called me and I came.”

Lexa was quiet, noticing from her periphery the way Abby regarded her with a rather harsh glare as Clarke muttered the last bit. She ignored it; seeking instead the bright blue of Clarke’s eyes, “You’re a match?”

Clarke nodded slowly, “He’s going to receive chemotherapy at as low a dose as we can while still—preparing his body to receive my healthy cells. We’re doing the surgery at 6 AM this Sunday. One of the best doctors I know is performing it, and I—I promise—Aden’s going to get the best treatment. He’s going to be all right, Lexa. I’m not going to let anything happen to him.”

A flash of tentative hope crossed Lexa’s face before she gave the barest nod, and disappeared into her son’s hospital room.

…

_The week passed—in a series of sleepless nights for the both of them._

_Sunday morning at six AM came; the sky above them still dark. A soft halo of mist and fog circling the city._

…

Aden turned to her before they both went under, “Thanks for—helping to make me better, Cla-arke.”

She turned to him and nodded, “Afterwards we’ll both eat all the ice cream that’s even _in_ this place.”

“ _Awesome!”_

…

_1 month later_

…

It was a near miraculous turn-around.

Aden’s body responded well to Clarke’s blood cells. A month later, no sign of rejection and his cancer in remission, he was let go from the hospital.

Clarke had visited him every day after her own release—giggling with him conspiratorially as Lexa sat at her post, in the chair by his bed; flipping through a magazine as she pretended not to watch them.

And now—Clarke didn’t know what else to do with herself.

“So, what?” Abby turned to her, “You save his life and—that’s it? Things all re-arrange themselves back to how they were? You _still_ don’t have a right to be around your own pup? I swear, that _woman_. She’s crazy.”

Her mother had called her over for breakfast. 9:45 am and she was still just starting to flip pancakes. Clarke smelled them cooking and heard her own stomach, clearly.

“Mom—don’t—”

“Don’t _what_?” Abby glared at Clarke, barely noticing one side of their breakfast beginning to burn on the skillet, “Don’t knock some actual sense into you? Regardless of whatever you signed—that—that boy’s a _Griffin_. He’s your son, Clarke, and you’re— _how_ are you—I—I _know_ you’re not okay with this. You _can’t_ be.”

Clarke shrugged; swallowing air to lessen the dead feeling of defeat in her chest, “I promised her. Plus—I, I signed everything and…even without that, mom—I promised her. So yes…I…I did what I did and now I’ll disappear. I know that’s what she’d be most comfortable with.”

“And you?—” Abby bit her lip to try and control her own anger, “ _You’re_ comfortable, Clarke? Letting a piece of yourself just float around about the planet; never knowing you’re half of where he comes from?”

Clarke cleared her throat, carefully avoiding her mother’s slit blue eyes, “No. I—I’m _not._ I can’t get his…his scent out of my head. Or his laugh, and…how sometimes his eyes just…had so much of Lexa’s calm stare in them. But they were mine too, just as much—just as much of my mischief as her veracity and it’s such a—I don’t know, beautiful paradox. I’d just look at him and be so…proud and…happy. I’ve never in my life painted or created anything more beautiful and I don’t think I ever could. And… _Lexa_. She…every time I see her I feel like life cheated me out of something. I feel this…anger rise up in me, and this _possession_ like on…alpha cave-girl levels of sick, and I know she doesn’t want me like that and it _kills_ me. It’s…no—I’m not fucking comfortable mom, I’m not _even okay_. My true mate’s rejected me...and I signed away my rights to the son I made with her.”

Abby sighed, throwing some awfully made pancakes onto Clarke’s plate with a spatula, “Well be an alpha about it.”

Clarke snorted, tears held back in her throat, “Yeah I’ll just go over there, you know, knock her over the head, knot her, bite her, and yeah, that’s…the, the making of some top-notch happy ending right there, mom. Every omega’s dream come true. Thanks for your sage ancestral alpha advice I’m— _so grateful_.”

Abby passed her the maple syrup, unfazed, appearing to decide on a change of tactics and affecting a softer tone, “Look Clarke—I’m not an expert. I know your dad and I sometimes…a _lot_ of times, didn’t see eye to eye but—I, I like to think I made him happy. And if I learned anything it’s that nothing gets solved by holding your emotions back from your partner. Just _talk_ to her. At the least she can give you a chance to just… _be_ in your son’s life. Who knows…she might even change her mind about you if you…alpha up and show her the sort of wonderful person you are. You’ve never had a problem getting omegas to fawn all over you—I…to be honest, I wasn’t even particularly surprised to find out you had a kid out there.”

They shared a cynical look and a laugh; though for Clarke it was at best bittersweet.

She ate around the charred pieces and thought of nothing but the possibilities her mother had put in her head.

…

_That night—_

…

Lexa was very easy to find and Clarke felt terrible about it. She felt like one of those stereotypical creeper alphas they posed as examples to omegas in afterschool specials— _stay away from these!_ Conversely, the ones _she_ was made to watch listed off these behaviors as stalkerish and unacceptable; focused on setting boundaries for urges they warned were coming soon.

Clarke had yawned at them then—not at all understanding the concept of obsessing over a single omega _anyway_. Life was virtually a flower-garden made of them—sure, some stood out now and then as particularly alluring but each was beautiful and sweet in a way so they _all_ were appealing. No sense in fussing over just one, especially one that didn’t show interest.

Fast forward to how her life had turned out.

_I hate myself._

But well—she had honestly looked up Lexa quite a few times before already. The woman was mostly a mystery—her social-network accounts were all set to private, leaving Clarke with nothing but miniscule avatars to stare at. Her _professional_ profile was far more open—she owned a law firm that specialized in environmental law; sticking it to harmful corporations and making great strides towards actual reform in terms of new regulations and mandates. She was often written about. Clarke read every article she came across with fond admiration. In nearly every large-profile case dealing with conservational issues, Lexa had been the representation. And her record was flawless. She was brutal in the court room. Clarke watched her cases on TV faithfully, though oftentimes the very fact that she did made her uncomfortable. It was certainly not something she’d ever admit to Lexa out loud.   

Seemed a moot point at that moment, however, seeing as she was skulking outside the woman’s house—

_Not skulking! Not like a…creep or a raccoon or something—I’m just—walking up to her door like a normal person albeit…conspicuously; unwanted and very uninvited._

She took a deep breath in.

The address, Clarke had gotten off her _mother_. Just one more legal blunder to add to their list. It didn’t much surprise her that Lexa moved out of her old house—she was _also_ pretty sure a fair amount of the decision was based off Clarke never finding them.

_Yet here I am. Like a true selfish ass._

She raked a hand through her wild blonde waves and sighed; the tall white double-doors looming over her—the porch light lit to let her know her soft knock would in all likelihood be answered.

Another deep breath—just trying not to panic.

Her knuckles still felt the scrape against the wood—that was how quickly Lexa answered.

She barely registered the deep green eyes before the omega was gasping and backing away. With a frown, Clarke took a half-step forward, right within the frame of the doorway, “Lexa.”

“Clarke—what? Why are you here? How did you get my _address_?”

Maybe it was a trick of the light but her jade eyes were glowing.

Every time Clarke saw her, she was reminded of why the woman was her favorite thing to draw.

She stuttered over her words quite a few times before she fully gathered herself, “I know that—I shouldn’t have. I…I shouldn’t even _call_ you, much less show up at your door but if I’m going to do this then I might as well go…full on, no holds barred and…I—I can see from the uh, eye roll that you don’t agree, and that you’re probably thinking this is what you don’t like about alphas in the first place. Or me in the first place. But you also haven’t kicked me out yet which—”

“—Can be quite easily remedied.”

“Uhhh,” Clarke’s eyes flitted immediately to Lexa’s hands; which were thankfully passive, and perched prettily on her hips, “Please don’t. I…I just really want to talk to you. I _know_ that I shouldn’t. And you probably think you shouldn’t let me but— _please_?”

“Clarke—”

A cool night breeze blew in through the open door, making Clarke shiver. It was only then that she sensed it—coiling hotly over Lexa’s usually sweet, subtle scent. Making it a concentrated potion that entranced her. That made her head spin in all directions.

“Oh,” Clarke was choking on her own breath, “You’re—”

“Yes—so,” Lexa moved one hand onto the edge of her door, tugging it partly closed before it caught on Clarke’s boot (her leg descending fast, on instinct). Lexa’s eyes flared, “Clarke.”

“I just—” Clarke swallowed thickly, “I want to talk. I need to talk to you, Lexa…before I lose my nerve. I—I can smell all the suppressants on you—”

“Suppressants I didn’t take so I could have an impromptu chat with you, Clarke. So move your boot before you no longer have a _foot_.”

“Why did you take them then?”

The question fell out of her mouth without a thought (quietly, but why at _all_ boggled her mind). She berated herself with a soft curse under her breath, “Shit, Lexa—look—”

“Don’t make me call the cops. I really don’t want to be _that_ house. I live in a nice neighborhood, so—”

“Ten minutes. _Please._ And I’ll go…and if you want it to be forever it…it will be. Just…those ten minutes. Please, Lexa.”

She felt tears threatening and met Lexa’s gaze past the burn of them.

The omega was the first to break eye contact. A sigh and a shake of her head (as if she couldn’t believe herself), and she was stepping out of the way. Letting Clarke in.

“ _Five_ minutes,” she muttered as Clarke walked past her; each holding their breath.

…

…

Lexa couldn’t help but to stare at her accusingly, “Now your scent’s going to be everywhere, I hope you know.”

She watched Clarke lick her lips and glanced quickly away from her. She heard her mutter some apology, and talked over the second half, eyes on the far wall, “This time counts towards your minutes, Clarke.”

“Please look at me,” Clarke sighed, and Lexa did; her whole body throbbing, and longing, and _hurting_ at the sight _._

“Why are you here?”

 “I have to tell you something—”

“Just start talking, then.”

Clarke scoffed softly, “I _would_ if you could tone down the sass for one minute and _listen_ —”

“Well—”

“It’s like you hate me and I—I don’t even understand why—”

Lexa’s eyes gaped.

“I’m in _heat_ and you’re insisting on an emotionally weighty conversation that has—a—a lot of risks for me, Clarke. And I think I can guess what you want to talk about but I don’t know if I…if I can do it for you.”

Lexa sighed. Clarke’s eyes seemed fixed on a bead of sweat Lexa could feel drip down the column of her throat, and the thought wasn’t helping her. She tried hard to pay more attention to Clarke’s words than the movement of her mouth as she spoke.

The alpha’s voice was suddenly hoarse, “He never asks about me?  He never…asks who his sire is? If he has one? If they want to be around—?”

Lexa shook her head. She couldn’t stand being in the line of Clarke’s sea blue stare. She headed towards the kitchen; hearing Clarke’s boots click against the marble floor after her—her scent sticking to everything as earlier predicted.

“Lexa, I just want a chance to be in his life, I,” a desperate hand grabbed at Lexa’s forearm, and she let it (though it burned her to), and she let the woman twirl her around so they faced each other again. A pause in which they searched each other’s eyes followed, before Clarke’s grip slipped off her arm; her face apologetic as she worried her lip, eventually continuing, “It’s…it was already hard before. When I didn’t even know him, or if he existed. Where I could force it into my head that the outcome of that night we spent together could’ve gone multiple ways. And it was better for me not to go too far down _any_ of those roads. Better for me to just move on from it. Let it be a mystery. Let it all _end_ that way…with all those questions. But, so you know—my head never stopped going back there. Even if…I found ways to cope with it all. But _now_ Lexa? It’s—the pain doesn’t even compare to what I felt before. I’ve…I know what he _looks_ like now. I’ve seen his smile, and his eyes. I smelled his hair. I’ve made him laugh. I—he’s my pup too. And I can’t—I—”

Lexa swallowed thickly. There were tears in Clarke’s eyes that made them a periwinkle blue.

“Clarke.”

She couldn’t think clearly. They were standing far too close, and Clarke smelled far too inviting.

“I—can think about it but,” she sucked her bottom lip in her mouth; throwing a wish out into the universe (that she could gain some control over this), “I’m not ready to tell Aden you’re his sire or—I just—I don’t feel ready to have this conversation with you right now. It’s clearly not a good time for it. Aden’s almost coming back home and I’m meant to be _calming_ my heat not—”

She finished off with a sigh; her cheeks burning. Not particularly keen on admitting to Clarke that she was having a hard time because of her presence here.

Clarke frowned, her lips pursing slightly, “Where is he?”

“With Anya, having alpha-time while I try to tamp down my heat so he can spend his time home—actually _being_ home. And comfortable.”

At a flash of hurt over Clarke’s face (her brows furrowing so cutely it made Lexa’s heart flutter), she elaborated, “Anya’s my little sister. He’s with his aunt. She visited Aden a few times but your paths never crossed. That um…that adult alpha you used to sense in Aden’s room—the one you couldn’t identify that always got you in a foul mood—that was her. I never told you who she was because at the time I…thought it was easier to have you think she was—”

Clarke nodded, though her eyes were clouded over, as if preoccupied with a particular thought, “ _Do_ you have a mate, or—”

Lexa scoffed softly.

“If I had a mate, wouldn’t they be here? Helping me…”

Clarke licked her lips; her eyes closing as if she were struggling with something, “Yeah. If you had a mate, she’d be right here. Having the time of her life.”

Clarke’s eyes opened again. The barest blue halo rimmed her pitch back pupils and Lexa couldn’t hold her whine in her throat; letting it pierce the air between them; letting it draw a groan from Clarke’s mouth. Lexa’s head dipped in a subconscious gesture at the sound, for the first time catching sight of Clarke’s erection; bulging against the confining jeans she wore.

“ _Clarke_.”

 “Should—should I go?”

She glanced up to meet Clarke’s hooded black eyes and simply shook her head. Though she was short of breath, she muttered, “I don’t want you to go.”

Clarke took a half step forwards, their bodies swaying until they nearly touched. She went stiff before it could happen though; keeping the half-inch of distance between them like it were sacred, “What _do_ you want, Lexa?”

It was Lexa who closed the space. Lexa who transgressed first; pecking Clarke at the corner of her lips rather brusquely and breathing a plea into her cheek.

…

 

Clarke groaned again.

Images of the way Lexa rode her cock versus the very chilling reminder ringing in her head that said they hadn’t resolved anything—and going down this road would do nothing but complicate matters for them—kept battling it out in her thoughts.

Fucking was really the last thing they needed right then.

Still, Clarke’s cock pulsed deeply (throbbing along to her heartbeat) as Lexa laid soft kisses down the line of her jaw. Saying “please” and “fuck me.”

With every passing second less blood remained in her head to fuel her thoughts—flooding down to where it made her harder, and bigger, and _dumber._

She freely admitted she’d always been terrible at saying ‘no’ to sex. She just enjoyed it. It helped to calm her if she was stressed. Gave her some temporary joy that sometimes was all she needed to keep getting up every day.

But with Lexa—it was never _like_ that. The feelings didn’t end after her orgasm. Lexa didn’t leave her with empty, inconsequential joy fluttering lightly in her chest— _least_ of all calm. Lexa left her with her heart still pumping fiercely in the cage of her ribs as she held onto the woman post orgasm; nuzzling her neck, and trying to control her own rage at the fact that she wasn’t hers. It prickled down her veins and twisted knots in her stomach. It didn’t let her sleep. It fueled her next erection. Painful and almost immediate. And then it didn’t let _Lexa_ sleep.

“Lexa,” she croaked, mouth dry, “We—I, I really came to talk about Aden.”

The omega’s kisses cut off then. She looked down at Clarke with a frown, “I need to think about all that. I can’t just—make that decision now.”

“I know,” Clarke’s voice was soft, “And I want you to have all the time you need. I just don’t think we should…you know, _complicate_ things until we get all that straightened between us. I think it would make things harder later. After your heat’s gone and you’re not too sweet on me anymore. You know you only want me when you’re going through it.”

Lexa shook her head; swallowing some emotion.

“So you’re going to leave me like this?”

Clarke tried to ignore the way Lexa’s swollen pout made her shiver. _Manipulation_ , she told herself, and sighed, and tried to stand firm. Lexa’s eyes slit dangerously at the sight. Her head dipped down again and she started up with the soft kisses on Clarke’s jaw; just like a few minutes ago but slower and deeper. Clarke sighed because they felt so _nice_ and Lexa placed a particularly doting one on the cleft of her chin in response, her tongue swiping out to lick it shallowly, “I want to suck your cock again, Clarke.” It was whispered right up against her skin, almost inaudible. Nothing compared to the sound of Clarke’s answering groan.

A searching palm felt up her dick outside her jeans.

Clarke accepted she was powerless. Admitted she was _willing_ (though her traitorous hips and the way they jerked up against Lexa’s hand likely gave that fact away for her already).

“ _Please_ , Lexa.”

The omega’s lips pulled up into a smirk, “Now look who’s begging.”

Clarke huffed softly; some barbaric corner of her brain flaring up in indignation but mostly she didn’t care at all what was implied—as long as Lexa kept rubbing and squeezing her in the warm center of her palm.

She wanted that bliss again (like that night—sliding into this gorgeous woman). She truly thought she’d never feel it again.

Her gaze was fixed almost obsessively to Lexa’s as she watched the girl get down on her knees in front of her. Anticipation had sweat beading along her brow; her lips dry, while Lexa nuzzled the seam of her jeans—taking the slider in her mouth and tugging it gingerly down the zipper’s teeth. The jeans were then promptly jerked off. Clarke barely had time to kick them off her feet (along with her boots) before Lexa was taking her cock between both hands and pulling it up to examine closely; with those wide, studious eyes of hers.

Electricity shot up Clarke’s spine just at that.

And _then_ she was enveloped in the warm, wet splendor of Lexa’s mouth.

Her nostrils flared and she hissed like she’d been singed, wondering how Lexa could feel nothing for her but then rake her tongue across her cock that way? She went from one shy peck at the crown to open-mouth kissing on the side of Clarke’s cock and it had the alpha’s head spinning, her vision blurring.

“Oh my god— _Lexa_! Fuck!”

Running her hand through Lexa’s waves and just loving the feel of her hair, Clarke very quickly came—no real warning for either of them just long streaks falling onto Lexa’s pretty lips and skin; covering her.

…

…

"Oh god—Lexa, I’m sorry—I, I didn’t know it was coming.”

Lexa smirked at the phrasing, wiping some off her cheek with her thumb and promptly sucking it off, “Mmn, it’s okay. I’ll take it as a compliment.”

She met Clarke’s gaze head on, a strange sense of pride settling over her chest at the contentment lighting up the alpha’s eyes, “Did you like it, Clarke?”

Clarke nodded, still panting harshly; cock still standing painfully at attention for Lexa. She grabbed the alpha by its base and tugged lightly.

“Follow me to my bedroom.”

…

 

Lexa couldn’t help noting the way Clarke’s gaze roved over Aden’s door as they walked (his name spelled out in rainbow block letters on it, along with several super-hero stickers smattered along the bottom of it, at his reaching-level). But the blonde didn’t say anything, and Lexa was entirely grateful for it.

They reached her room, where the mood shifted; where there was no turning back for them. She watched Clarke taking off the remainder of her clothes as she quickly texted Anya; begging her to stall, to take much longer than she estimated. Knowing her sister, she didn’t wait for an answer. She turned to a naked Clarke, desire coiling hot in her belly at the sight of perfect pale curves and long, full inches—the swollen tip gleaming with pre-cum already.

“Take off your clothes but leave your panties.”

Lexa nearly purred at the tone of Clarke’s voice; reaching for the hem of her shirt and dutifully pulling it off.

…

 

“Start soft please,” Lexa told her, settling down into her cool sheets and luxurious pillows; looking down at Clarke as she kissed hot trails over her already fevered skin—whispering adoringly into every dip in Lexa’s hard stomach things like: 'I bet you’re so tight and warm.'

Clarke crawled down and rubbed her happy face on the outside of Lexa’s panties; making the omega’s whole body coil.

“Clarke!”

Clarke pursed her lips against the throbbing indent Lexa’s clit formed against the soft cotton of her underwear. Lexa watched, mesmerized, as the alpha took the panties in her straight white teeth and pulled them down to her knees; a hard tug with rough hands for the rest of the way. The same hands then spread her thighs apart, pinning Lexa’s knees to the mattress so her pussy was completely exposed before Clarke.

“Your pussy’s beautiful, Lexa.”

Lexa flushed; heat crawling up her neck. She averted her eyes from Clarke’s magnetic stare, “You don’t have to…notice that stuff.”

“But I do,” Clarke said, and then smirked at her impishly before closing her mouth over Lexa’s clit.

“ _Fuck_!”

Lexa’s fist immediately flew to Clarke’s soft blonde hair; holding her down as her hips jerked into that faithfully suckling mouth. She found this hard to handle—the filthy eye contact and Clarke’s slick tongue moving in a winding circle over her clit, dipping teasingly into her entrance.

Lexa ground herself against Clarke’s gifted mouth—all the most sensitive parts of her disappearing into its heat. Clarke’s hands reached down to cup her ass and squeeze it as she ground her face into her center and it was suddenly all too much—the way she could feel herself drip down Clarke’s pretty chin.

“Oh—god—yes! Clarke! _Yes,_ Clarke!”

Her back arched like a bow as she lost control; Clarke holding her down and riding her orgasm, never seizing her mouth’s exhaustive attention.

Lexa caught Clarke’s forehead with the swell at the end of her palm to get her to stop, groaning at her, “Please! Please, Clarke—fuck me. Fuck me now.”

…

…

Lexa feverishly kissed Clarke after she’d blessed the alpha’s mouth; stroking her tongue over Clarke’s and tasting herself—every whimper that escaped her throat like a hot lick up Clarke’s shaft.

Clarke reached for it; squeezing just to lessen the hammering pressure.

“Fuck, Lexa—are you ready?”

She lined herself up at Lexa’s nod before a thought struck her, “ _Oh damn it._ I—I don’t have any condoms.”

Lexa frowned at her, eyes hazy (Clarke’s slick cock brushing up against her inner thigh taking up too much of her focus), “Is there a chance you’re not clean?”

Clarke shook her head, “No, I—you’re the only person I’ve ever done it with where I didn’t use protection. To this day.”

A fond look crossed Lexa’s face—so quickly Clarke immediately doubted whether it hadn’t just been her own wishful thinking—and the woman shrugged, “Then don’t use one. I’m clean, you’re clean.”

Clarke searched her eyes; still so dilated, so animalistic and out of control, “Are you on birth control?”

A half nod; the omega’s mouth pulled tight in silence. Another question teased the tip of Clarke’s tongue (one her mother had made her memorize as an awkward adolescent pup, for these exact circumstances).

_“What exactly do you use for birth control?”_

A question much less easy to lie around.

But Clarke bit her tongue and chose to trust her.

She nodded and, first teasing Lexa’s entrance with a slow swirl of her head around it—pushed inside her.

…

“Oh _fuck_ , Lexa.”

Even on the inside she was perfect. Tight, ridged, slick walls fluttered over her sensitive cock and Clarke was back where she _belonged_ —home. With Lexa grinding on her dick like that’s all it existed for; for _her_ pleasure. Her pussy squeezed, possessive, as Lexa came with a piercing cry of Clarke’s name and a hard shudder. Clarke let her ride it out with deep, slow strokes—holding off her own orgasm with the most terrible images she could conjure up.

Lexa met her at her calm pace until she came down from her overly-sensitized high and started raking nails up Clarke’s twitching shoulders all the way down to squeeze on her ass; spreading her own legs wide to wrap around the alpha’s lower back and urge her to—“Fuck Clarke! Fuck me harder!”

Clarke growled and nuzzled Lexa’s neck; nosing the hard beat of her pulse point as she acquiesced; slamming her hips hard into Lexa’s and feeling her knot form against the girl’s swollen cunt, “Oh god—fuck!”

She watched Lexa’s eyes rolling back at being full of her dick and felt it twitch inside her heat, a streak of pre-cum falling into the girl’s tight pussy.

Lexa reached a palm down and wrapped it around Clarke’s knot; nearly shocking the alpha into a hard orgasm as she squeezed it; tightening and loosening her grip on it in a way that had Clarke squealing, “Fuck Lexa—so good, you feel so good—you fucking— _oh!_ ”

“Give it to me, Clarke! I want your knot. Knot me and fill me up like when we made Aden. _Please._ ”

Clarke’s breathing came out in a hard rasp as she ground her hips even deeper into Lexa’s—feeling the stretch of her entrance as her swollen knot tested it; slowly and steadily pushing it in against the tight resistance until bit by bit it popped all the way in; dragging a grateful whine out of Lexa’s mouth.

The incredulous look on Lexa’s face nearly ended Clarke as the omega sighed right onto her lips, “You’re all the way at the bottom of my pussy—oh my _god_ , Clarke.”

And then, with a desperate look over her perfect face, she was throwing her head back—exposing her neck to Clarke who had to tamp down both the insistent instinct to finally claim what her heart and body knew was _hers_ and her desire to come.

She wanted to stretch this.

She wanted to feel herself rocking into yet another of Lexa’s orgasms. Wanted the girl to crash down around her cock again. Wanted to hear her name cried out in a pitch that pierced the wet sounds of their hammering bodies and their urgent breathing.

Faithfully, to the pounding rhythm of Clarke’s thrusting hips, Lexa came—muscles collapsing on Clarke’s cock and knot as she jerked hard and fast into her omega; feeling triumph and sublime pleasure wash over the full length of her body—until it coiled tightly in her knot and finally popped loose; shot after shot of her orgasm pouring into Lexa, who held on by Clarke’s shoulders—legs wrapped tightly around Clarke like she would never let go, and so, Clarke continued coming. Midway through her hardest orgasm to date, she grabbed for Lexa’s chin, forcing the girl’s face up to meet her eyes. If she couldn’t claim her then she wanted _this._ Their gazes locked as Clarke came inside her.

She stared at misty emerald—bright with bliss—and came abruptly to a hard understanding (Lexa’s hands gripping her ass, squeezing as much as she could out of her orgasm, as Clarke’s chest filled with a new anxiety). Something Lexa had said crawled its way into her head out of the whole wild blur of the evening, _“Like when we made Aden. Knot me and fill me up like when we made Aden.”_

She swallowed thickly; going through aftershocks still but pulling determinedly apart from Lexa. Frowning down into the woman’s contented countenance; still tied to her, hovering just inches above her warm, slick body.

“Lexa,” it was grit out, albeit breathlessly, “What kind of birth control do you use?”

  
...

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to add one more scene to this part of the series. So expect one more small chapter to set the next part up. :)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as always for all your support with the first part of the series : ). Hope you enjoyed this latest installment. There will be a second chapter to this part. And then a third part after that to finish the series off I think. Please tell me what you thought!
> 
> PS I am not a medical professional or anything so certain parts of those scenes might be off. I tried as hard as I could. As far as Aden, don't worry next chapter he'll be well again. A lot of Clarke/Lexa scenes in that one. It's about halfway done, just give me a couple days and some encouragement! Oh, and programs like the Guardian one already exist and are really wonderful--I in no way made those up.


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